


Featherlight

by Megeara



Series: Widowhanzo Week [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe - Mentals, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Literal Sleeping Together, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, Widowhanzo Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megeara/pseuds/Megeara
Summary: Who could have thought that there could be negative consequences of gaining back the ability to feel?





	

Amélie doesn’t expect that everything will be easy. For so long she’s been so numb, an empty casket filled to the brim with nothing that she just couldn’t imagine what was it like to feel normal again. She looked in the mirror, and saw a monster that didn’t have a face, so empty and numb that it didn’t make a difference if what she did was right or wrong.

Hanzo performed a miracle. She feels ecstatic - how could she forget emotions? – discovering all those feelings she missed for a long time. She could smile and laugh genuinely; the muscles between her ribs hurt from it, but she relished in it. The Amélie from before may be dead, but the remains of her resurface over and over again in touches and tones she herself is surprised of.

It’s an out of body experience.

Hanzo’s there to help her on the way. She can always tell his presence is near to mend and assist her emotional channel, and she lets him. The man’s stoic presence became a calming factor in her life just under a few weeks. He’d prepare tea from wild ingredients for her, meditate next to the fire or carve arrows from the remaining wood. He’s quiet to the point of being mute, but to Amélie’s surprise it doesn’t bother her that much. She’s adjusting, and she finds the silence rather comforting.

There are downsides of having her emotions back. It becomes apparent, when one night she’s woken up by Hanzo and she almost tackles him, hands poised to strangle him. Hanzo has to push her to the floor for her to come to herself. She’s crying, with huge hiccupping sobs, and the words just roll off her tongue like ash from the scorched tree after a wildfire.

“I killed them, oh god, all of them, I killed them, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so much, so much blood...”

Hanzo embraces her, turning her face gently into his neck, and she eagerly clutches the rough leather of his cloth, bunching the texture in her hands. He’s humming something, a song or a lullaby, Amélie cannot tell, but the tone is soothing, a balm to her wrecked nerves.

She only realizes that she must have been screaming in her sleep, when she speaks hoarsely. “You have a nice voice,” she says. She pulls away slowly to clean the tear-tracks off her face, and Hanzo lets her. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He watches her with dark eyes. Without any light source they look black as a pit. “There is nothing to apologize for.” He stands up, and makes his way over to a plain wooden chest. “Nightmares are nothing you can control, simply the outcome of sudden stress, anxiety or in your case, unresolved trauma.”

Amélie shakes from the analytical tone the man uses. It rings too familiar to her ears, but she supposes he can’t help it. She’s not a healer, and she wouldn’t attempt to touch the man’s soul without permission. A shiver runs down her back at the thought.

Hanzo places two more comforters onto the bed. She can’t tell which animal’s hide he used, but they look warm and inviting. The black and the white wolf watch from the corner of their eyes. They don’t trust her yet.

“Here,” he says. “The warmth should chase away the remaining cold of emotional shock.”

Amélie holds a shaking hand before her mouth, before dropping it with a sigh. Her golden eyes lower to examine the floor. “I can’t take away your bed. I’ve already asked for too much.”

He cocks his head slightly, and she knows that he mimics confusion for her sake. “It’s an offer. It would be most beneficial for us both. A good night sleep can work wonders.”

She cracks a smile, her thin lips twitching upwards just a bit. She knows he can’t help the dead-pan tone, but it still makes her cheer up a little. “As you wish, then.”

The blankets are as warm and soft as they look. She pulls them close, feeling the fur brush against her cheek. The chased dreamless sleep, however, doesn’t come. She eyes Hanzo, who’s laid down beside the wolves on the floor guiltily. The man shouldn’t sacrifice his comfort for her sake. Pictures of bodies flash behind her lids, bloodied with vacant eyes, silent screams on death-blue lips, and she opens her eyes quickly before the visions can get a hold of her again.

Hanzo looks back at her from across the room. The white wolf is curled under his head, a stark contrast to the man, whose silhouette stands out dark against her fur.

“I can feel your unease,” he murmurs. “Sleep doesn’t come?”

Amélie shakes her head bitterly.

Hanzo closes his eyes and nods his head back. In the following silence she can hear the wind catching up again, bringing more snow with them. The door rattles in their wake.

“When we were younger, my brother used to have nightmares too.”

She looks up surprised. Hanzo’s face is as impassive as always, not a single muscle giving away his thoughts.

“He would wake up crying, curled up on the corner of the bed, back to the wall. I remember how I used to hug him, rocking him back and forth in my attempts to calm him down. Sometimes he would ask me to sing something for him or tell a tale of some sort...” His voice quiets and his hand moves to absentmindedly scratch the black wolf’s ear. “On the darkest nights I climbed into his bed. He always said that sleep claimed him sooner when he could feel a warm body next to his own.”

The black wolf sniffles and presses against Hanzo’s side more. Amélie is lost in Hanzo’s soul-deep gaze.

“What I want to say is… If there is something I can do to ease your pain, then tell me.”

Amélie’s throat clogs up, and she has to visibly swallow, before she can nod hesitantly. “I... Can we share a bed?” The words come out in a rush, and she turns her gaze away. “I don’t want you to sleep on the floor, and… I think your brother was right. It’d help if I could feel your presence next to mine.”

She doesn’t blush, she lost that ability ages ago, but the nervousness still sits in her guts. Maybe Hanzo can feel it, because he asks back.

“The bed is not suited for two people.” His voice is carefully measured.

At that Amélie does get the courage to look him in the eye. “I trust you,” she says simply. She knows that Hanzo can hear the meaning behind the words, when he bows his head.

He turns his back to her. The cot truly is small, but Hanzo still manages to squeeze in a few inch gap between them. He looks even more uncomfortable with his hands tucked in front of himself than when he was lying on the floor.

She can’t help the sigh that escapes her. “Can I hug you?” she asks.

Hanzo gives a contemplative pause then nods briskly. She doesn’t waste time pulling him to the centre of the bed, where she can press her face to the spine of the archer. She doesn’t touch him anywhere below waist-line, simply deciding to put one arm over the man’s chest.

Not long after that, she falls asleep to the sound of Hanzo’s deep breathing and heartbeat under her ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Belated fill for Day 2 (Tears) for Widowhanzo Week. I'm drowning in work these days, so I'm sorry if someone may be upset about the shortness of this continuation. There's still 5 days left to fill, sooo who knows. I may have something more to write...
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are fuel to my inspiration. Thank ya'll who takes the time to hit some buttons.  
> Talk to me down the comments, on McHanzo discord (Starkanium #1181) or on tumblr (gameworm)


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